Charlie the Great
by yawnekxela
Summary: When Alphonse met Charlie, he wanted almost nothing to do with him. Eleven years later, they have a close relationship. But when Charlie's stupid actions jeoprodize the Templar Order, Alphonse doesn't know whether to help Charlie or remain faithful to the Order.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dandy:** _Born Alfie Garnder, to common parents in England, Comte Alphonse de Marigot quicjly outgrew his humble background. At 15, he found a job at the newly established Comedie Francaise in Paris, and took advantage of every opportunity to meet men of power and influence. In his 18th year he accepted a job aboard a merchant brignantine and saidl for the West Indies. On his patron's death, he inherited the business, and established the de Marigot plantation in Martinique._

**The Stowaway:** _Running from his parents at the age of ten, Charlie Oliver, calling himself "Charlie the Great", hid aboard a ship headed for the New World, in a barrel full of apples. His endless chattering was what led him to the Comte de Marigot, who, not knowing what to do with him, introduced him to the Templar Order._

* * *

Comte Alphonse de Marigot walked along the main deck of his ship. As he did, he passed barrels of apples, oranges and other tradable goods that weren't meant for the crew eat. Yet that didn't stop them from eating. He was enjoying his peaceful night. His newly established plantation was to open very soon. Once the ship arrived in Martinique, he could begin his new life as the new Comte.

His thoughts were disrupted by someone talking.

"Is anyone out there?" a voice that sounded much like a child's asked. It was muffled and it seemed to come from the barrels.

"Hmm?" Alphonse hummed, unsure if the many months at sea began to take a toll on his mind and play tricks on him.

"Hello?" the voice said.

This time Alphonse was positive about the voice. It came from a barrel of apples. "Who's there?"

"My name is Charlie." Alphonse opened the barrel of that the voice came from and was greeted by the sight of a small blond ten-year-old boy that smiled up at him. "Hi."

"Bonjour…" The boy stood up and climbed out of the barrel. "How did you get here?"

"I climbed aboard while you were in port in England."

"England? That was two months ago."

"I know!" The boy bent backwards to crack his back and the sound of the cracks that went from the top to the bottom of his spine made Alphonse cringe. He watched at the boy cracked the rest of his joints.

Alphonse stopped the boy just as he was about to crack his neck. "Please…" he begged.

"Like I said, my names Charlie. Charlie Oliver. Also known as Charlie the Great! No one actually calls me that. It's really just me. But I'm the only one that matters to me. That's why I'm all alone." He spoke fast and excitedly. There was a sense of extreme self-admiration and false intelligence to his tone. This was the last thing Alphonse wanted to deal with the day before the opening of his new plantation. "I'm kind of hungry. Do you have anything besides apples? I don't think I could eat another apple after two months."

_'Does this boy ever shut up?'_ Alphonse thought, only able to process what the boy says two sentences later. "Listen, Charles—"

"Charlie," the boy cut him off. "My parents called me Charles and I hated it."

"Okay, Charlie…why are you here?"

"I ran away."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to be free."

"Free from what? Were you held captive?" He began to form the idea that the boy was held as a slave and he made an escape. Alphonse thought about the praise he would get for "rescuing" a small boy from the horrors of slavery.

"Yeah, by my parents! They treated me wrong, like I was a kid!"

Immediately, Alphonse felt deflated. Obviously, this child wasn't as intelligent as he tried to make himself sound.

"What do you think you are?" Alphonse asked, curious about the boy's self-image. Was he confident or delusional? Whichever it was, Alphonse leaned towards not wanting anything to do with this child. However, they were on a ship in the Caribbean Sea, very far from the boy's home. The image that would leave on Alphonse would be worse than that of a murderer. He would never hear the end of it, how he abandoned a little English boy in the Caribbean islands.

"I'm a free man!" Charlie answered. That was what would have caused Alphonse to leave the boy be (or throw him overboard). However, for the sake of his own public image, he didn't.

"Well, listen here, '_free man_." The emphasis showed that he mocked the child, but the boy didn't seem to realize. "You have nowhere else to go. This ship is heading for Martinique. There, you will meet some people and they will introduce you to a whole new world. A world you can be free in." The word 'free' caused Charlie's face to light up. "We arrive next week. For now we will find you a cot to sleep in in the crews' quarters." He led the boy down to the next deck to hand him off to a crew member and explained the situation about the stowaway in French. The crew member stifled his laughter and took the boy under his care for the night.

Alphonse began to form a plan. Once they arrive in Martinique, he would look for the Grand Master Templar of the area, introduce him to Charlie and hopefully get rid of the boy without the feeling of guilt. Besides, he was recruiting another into their Order. Isn't that what great Templars do?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The biographies of the Dandy and the Stowaway only pertain to the prologue of the story. The Dandy and the Stowaway are owned by Ubisoft and I have no intention of ever calling them my work. Even if the Stowaway is cute as hell.


	2. Chapter 2

As he sat in the tavern, Charlie listened to the "musicians" "play" their instruments and the "singer" of the "band" "sing" and he inhaled his second pitcher of rum. The more intoxicated he got, the more it started to sound like actual musicians and an actual singer.  
"You been here too long," the bartender said as he took Charlie's empty pitcher and anticipated that he would ask for a third. He took a hard look at Charlie and noticed his rather young appearance. "Don't you have a family to go to, kid? A mommy and daddy lookin' for ya?"  
Charlie gave the man a dirty look. He was too temperamental mixed with borderline drunk to take such a comment. "I haven't seen my parents in almost eleven years. Bring me another pitcher." In Charlie's mind, this man didn't deserve the pleasure of a 'please.'  
"You've had enough."

"Oh, I've had enough?" Charlie began to get defensively angry, partially a result of his increasing intoxication. Charlie was never one to take orders from just anyone. "Are you my liver? Do you get to decide my limit?"

"Listen, kid—"

Charlie quickly pulled out one of his pistols. "Do not call me 'kid,' you inconsiderate swine," he growled. "Bring. Me. Another. Pitcher."

Very slowly, the bartender picked up another pitcher and set it on the counter. Charlie looked at it and saw that it was empty. With a quick glance at the bartender, Charlie noticed that his eyes were elsewhere. He looked passed Charlie, at someone behind him. Whoever it was, they weren't on Charlie's side. With one swift move, Charlie put his pistol back into its holster, turned around and punched the man behind him in the stomach. The man doubled over and dropped the large mug he was intended to his Charlie with. Charlie took the opportunity to elbow the man in the back of the neck, right over his spine and caused him to fall to the ground.

This immediately caused a fight to break out.

It went from one on one to five on one, with Charlie being the one. He did not want to actually shoot his pistols inside the tavern so he decided to stick with close combat. One man ran at him and just in time, Charlie grabbed him by the sides of his head, jumped up, and kneed him in the gut. With how high he was, he saw another man behind the just-stunned one and punched him in the jaw as he landed. Two men down. Three to go. It was unknown to Charlie who the three that remained were as everyone in the tavern seemed suspicious to him.

Another man attempted to sneak up on Charlie but made the mistake of speaking. "You rat bastard," he slurred. Charlie turned around and head-butt the man and left him in the same state as the last two stunned men.

Charlie didn't want to go any further with this fight. Before the last two men could make their moves, he pulled out his pistols and began to wave them around. "If anyone steps any closer to me, I'll blow your fucking head off!" he yelled. He tried to sound as serious as possible. He wouldn't actually shoot the pistols but he wanted to scare everyone enough to allot him time to leave. He began to move towards the exit ever so slow, with the pistols aimed in case anyone made even the slightest flinch. Once he was at the door, he aimed at the bartender. "You," he demanded. "Remember the name Charlie the Great next time you try to dictate how much another person drinks."

With that said, he left.


End file.
